


First Blood

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Paint The Sky With Stars [56]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010), Night World - L. J. Smith, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9571559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the comment_fic prompt: "any, any/any, first blood."A look at growing up Forsaken, for cousins Danny and Evan.





	

Danny came down off of his rush of adrenaline panic and realized two things: the man at his feet was dead, and someone was throwing up. He leaped, made the change midair, and landed on his feet as a human.   
  
Evan was leaning against the wall, head hanging down, retching violently, so hard Danny was afraid he was going to break a rib or - worse - puke up blood.   
  
The worst part of being a shapeshifter was the super-senses sometimes. Shapeshifters could have the worst human-like traits, and Danny was a sympathy-puker, so he stayed back a careful distance and waited till his cousin stopped puking.  
  
Finally, the painful sounds of retching gave way to tiny, hitching sobs.

"Evan, you okay?"

"I am as okay as I sound."  
  
Danny sighed. Damn Evan and his inability to be rude, and also his tendency toward sarcasm first, ask questions later. "We gotta - we gotta get proof of completion and take it back to The Council."  
  
Evan was like the boy scout he'd never been allowed to become (because Boy Scouts were tools of The Man and no one on the commune liked The Man). He straightened up, crossed the alley, and rifled through the backpack he'd calmly set aside before shifting into his True Form (black jaguar) and taking down their target. He found an old canteen of water that he used to rinse his mouth out.  
  
Then he handed a pair of pliers to Danny. "You want to do the honors?" Something about the way his mouth twisted at the word _honors_ was less wry, more bitter.  
  
But Danny said, "Hell yes." They were just turned fourteen, finally allowed out on patrols after having completed two years of Forsaken training. While witches were holding hands and dancing around fires and the lamia were finally allowed out to hunt on their own, the shapeshifters were doing real work, helping enforce Night World law.  
  
This was Danny and Evan's first solo mission.  
  
"Are you sure, though?" Danny asked. "I mean -"  
  
"I got first blood," Evan said. His hands were no longer shaking as he screwed the cap back onto the canteen. "The kill was mine. Let the trophy be yours."  
  
Danny frowned. "But if you killed him -"  
  
"I couldn't have done it on my own," Evan said. "We're a team. You get to do the honors."  
  
"Awesome. Thanks, Cousin!" Danny knelt, rolled the corpse over - werewolf, huge beast - and pried open its bloodstained jaw, tugged out its biggest fangs.  
  
It was kind of like magic - though something deeper and more mystical than simple magic flowed through the veins of every Night Person - but as soon as the second fang was out, the Change rippled over the werewolf, and he was -   
  
Not a man. A boy. Only a couple of years older than Danny and Evan, skinny and frail-seeming in human form, or maybe that was only in death. Danny wondered what he'd done, to incur the wrath of the Night World Council of Elders.  
  
And then Danny realized he recognized the kid, had seen him down at the boardwalk, begging for change or food or anything so he could get by.  
  
And then Danny was on his knees, sobbing and retching while Evan patted his back and made soothing noises, because that kid could have been him or Evan or any one of the other shifter kids they'd grown up with, and instead of helping him, they'd killed him.  
  
Because orders.  
  
Because they were the most monstrous of all monsters.  
  
Evan gave Danny the canteen so he could rinse his mouth, pried Danny's fist open to take the fangs - they had to present them to the Council as proof of a job done - and set about covering the body, as respectfully as he could.  
  
"We can't just leave him there," Danny said, voice raw and trembling.  
  
"Go," Evan said. "I got this." He handed Danny the backpack.  
  
"But how?"  
  
"Just go."  
  
Danny turned and started walking. They'd head for the nearest busy road, hitch a ride back to the boardwalk, and Danny's mom would come pick them up and pretend she was none the wiser of their new responsibilities.  
  
A few minutes later, Evan trotted to catch up to him. Smoke rose into the sky above the alley where they'd made their first kill.  
  
Danny supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when Evan turned eighteen, turned his back on all he'd known - the Commune, the Night World, and hitched up with the Air Force, of all things. Still taking orders, still a weapon in someone else's hands.  
  
But Evan got to do what he'd always dreamed of, got to fly.  
  
When Steve asked about the necklace Danny always wore, a single fang strung on a leather cord, Danny said, "Let's just say it's the shapeshifter version of dog tags."  
  
Steve, curled around Danny in their bed, traced the line of the cord. "Since when do shapeshifters need dog tags?"  
  
"Didn't you know? I grew up Forsaken."  
  
Steve's eyes went wide, but Danny silenced any other questions with a kiss.


End file.
